


Not even Death can keep us apart

by DrJackAndMissIole



Series: afterlife marauders [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Afterlife, Afterlife reunion, Bad Puns, Black Humor, Gen, Humor, Mention of sex, Mentions of Harry - Freeform, Reunion, Swearing, The Marauders - Freeform, did i say wolfstar?, kinda of au, mention of wolfstar, mentions of remus, settling in ootp, the brotp of all time, there's the death of the major character but it's in a nice way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackAndMissIole/pseuds/DrJackAndMissIole
Summary: orwhen the grim reapers get a day offBased off this prompt I found on tumblrI’m 99% certain that the Grim Reaper is not some scary bloke with a cloak, but that the person you love most in the afterlife comes to pick you up. I’m 99% certain that, when Sirius fell through the veil, there was James with a snort and an ‘Oi, careful there, mate.’





	

It just happened, as fast as blinking.

One second I was laughing, fighting to protect my boy from those suckers, that don’t even tie their shoes without their ‘Dark Lord’ telling them to do so, and the next I was falling through the veil, my vision going at first green and then plain white.

I didn’t realize what had just happened until my back hit the floor, on the other side: no noises, no shouting. No one was fighting for their lives on this side. Silence ran all over the room, as realization hit me like a train:  I am dead, I will never see Remus, nor Harry, ever again.

I won’t be able to tell Harry about his parents, about life and how it goes. I won’t be there to help pick-up girls and I won’t be able to hear stories about what happens to him and his friends inside the stone walls of Hogwarts. I won’t be there when he questions his sexuality for the first time, realizing that both boys and girls are cute. I won’t be able to comfort him and support him.

I will never be around for anyone anymore, and I don’t know it simply ‘cause I’m dead and can’t reverse this condition, but also ‘cause I’m _dead_ and we _dead people_ _know_ just about everything. Wow! I can’t wait to find someone to gossip with.

No, Sirius, bad dog, stay focused. Keep on your train of thoughts. Don’t think about chisme. Now, where was I? Oh, yes: Harry and his not-yet-out-of-the-closet bisexuality/pan-sexuality.

I will not be there for him, but Rem surely will! My sweet lovable Moony, all alone, without me to do stuff with him. Yet again, I was in Hell on Earth for 12 years so he might be used to this, but, still, we were so happy with our new honeymoon phase! Is he going to move on from this tragic situation? Probably not ‘cause I’m too hot, but still.

...Wait a second...

Nynphadora Tonks, aka Andromeda’s kid, aka my little cousin! Blood of my blood! And she has the hots for his furry little ass! I mean, who doesn’t think that Remus’ buttocks is one of a kind must be blind and I pity them for never seeing such perfection. Anyway... This is a victory!  
Remus, if you want to grieve, grieve for the loss of my hot abs and glorious hair, but for the love you have for me, and I know it’s a lot, do her and get me a small army of Blackies or Tonkses or Lupins. Now that I think about it, Blackies is much nicer that Lupins. So it’s settled, Blackies!

Also, Remus, it’s your moral duty, as my hot boyfriend and Lily’s _beastie_ and James’ second best-man, to take my godson away from those Dursleys, those sick monsters whom take pride into being normal.

Remus don’t you dare forgetting that Petunia back-then-Evans now-Dursley said that I was a spoiled brat and that my hair are too long and have split ends. I don’t trust anyone who thinks that my hair are too long or lies about this majestic mane of mine. Not even in Azkaban I had split ends!

Moral of the story: get Harry the hell outta there and into Grimmauld Place, love and raise the hell out of him, and then get an army of younglings with Tonks. Good job, Sirius. Everybody else go home, the best planner in the world has spoken...wait...

I forgot to add to the equation that little shit of Dumbledore, or should I say... SHITTLEDORE! Even dead as can be I still am the pun master, bow before me peasants! Anyway, that asshole had all the possible clues that that  Rat was guilty and still let me rot in a dirty cell in Azkaban, just ‘cause Harry had to live with Lily’s despicable sister, who locked him under the staircase and let him live there to not disrupt her happy little family. Puah, whitened sepulchres! How lovely to live next to those.

He could’ve get me to raise him, I was his godfather after all.

Or, he could’ve left the job to Old Minnie McGee, who would’ve raised him to be the most polite and bad-ass kid in the whole universe. He would’ve also been protected from harm, ‘cause I don’t think that even the Grim Reaper could mess with that woman!

Talking about Grim Reapers...where the fuck are they? I’m Sirius-fucking-Black, I just fucking died, and I deserve a fucking welcome party, with confetti and balloons and music. Or, you know, at least an introduction and indication to where the exit doors are. A map would be nice. Do I have to find my way to St. Peter’s Doors all by myself? Are the Grim Reapers on their day off or are they arguing because I’m too sexy and they all wanna take me there?

Maybe I should get up, though. This floor is getting a little uncomfortable and cold. I shall find my way out of here, gloriously as a hero on a quest! I still got legs, right? Fascinating, I can still feel my body working. And I used to fear death ‘cause I thought that I’d have to leave my body behind, decomposing, and it would have been such a waste! Apparently, not even death can resist this hot stuff!

Wait...does this also mean that other parts of my body, let’s just say my penis, still work? Can I get a boner in here  while watching Moony shower? Creepy, stalk-y, perv-y thought, but can I? Can I jerk off in Heaven? Or is it a sin, blasphemy? A bad thing that’s gonna get me kicked out? Can you get kicked out of Heaven once you’re inside? Isn’t it, like a contradiction? Dante said that once you enter Heaven, you lose all interest in everything but God, or something like that. So is it like this? Whatever, I’ll find out later.

The place around me is different from what it was on the other side: it’s brighter; the ceiling is full of stars; the room is shaped differently. The only thing in common is the veil I fell through. Maybe if I cross it back...

NOPE! NO, no, no, absolutely not. Dream about it, Sirius. Force field screams ‘ **DO NOT TREPASS** ’ loud enough.

“Oi, careful there, mate!”, says a voice I’d recognise everywhere, even if I hadn’t heard it in 14 years. And trust me, when I say _everywhere_ , I literally mean it. Even at the end of the bloody ocean I’d recognise this voice speaking to me. Hell, even if it was whispering from the top of the Everest and I was at the bottom of the bottomless ocean, where nor light nor sound gets through, I’d still hear it.

I’m scared to turn around and see that I had imagined it. Slowly, curiosity wins me over and I turn, eyes closed shut.

“Am I really that hideous that you won’t look at my face? Not to be rude or anything, but _you_ are the one that grew old.”

My grey eyes fling open in a nanosecond. At first I looked at those familiar deer like brown eyes, expecting them to be lifeless and broken and _dead_ , but they stared back at me shining, sparkling as they used before. The rest came into my vision all at once: black messy untamed hair; a great smile that could’ve lit the whole world up (because it was bright, but I can’t guarantee about the fireproofs plan we used to make, therefore I can’t fully be held as liable); square jaw and nice shaped cheekbones that used to make every girl at Hogwarts swoon over, even though the eyes never left a particular red-headed girl, attitude that also his son has got; the omnipresent framed glasses that conferred a more mischievous look to the marauder.

I knew that they both looked identical, except for the eyes, but actually _seeing_ him, instead of simply remembering what once was, showed me many differences, especially in their postures and their characters: James Potter filled effortlessly each room he was in, while Harry James Potter choose a more subtle approach, knowing how to be discrete; James’ hair were all spiked up from mussing and fussing with them all the time, while Harry’s looked a little more tamed. Even though the colour of their eyes was different, they both had the same light shining behind their eyelids.

All this time, James’ memory had lived brightly inside of me, giving me something to hold on each day; lately, father and son had merged into a single image, James’ eyes with Harry’s shyness. I used to remember James as he was on our last year at Hogwarts, before having to hide and flee, but I somehow expected to see him like after school in the Afterlife, tired and worn out.

I’m pleasantly surprised: he looks younger and brighter, or maybe I’m just older and more prone to Alzheimer.

He wears the same careless expression he showed around the halls at Hogwarts.

My legs can’t seem to be able to move, I feel paralyzed by the boy in front of me. With a sly smirk he says: “You finally came, even though I hoped to not see your ugly face around here for a long time!”

“Pardon me, good sir, who exactly are thou calling ‘ugly’? I aged like a fine wine”

“More like a fine vinegar. Seriously Sirius, you should see the wrinkles on your forehead, looks like a sea full of waves over there.”

“Oh deer, you shouldn’t be the one speaking; that hairstyle is so yesterday! Also, that silly attempt at punning? P-awful!”

“Everything’s better than your _black_ humour.”

Do you know that scene in muggle films where two people, that love each other but haven’t seen much of one another in a really long-ass time, run towards each other and hug one another with all their strength? Can you picture it? Yes? Well discard that shitty cliché, ‘cause it's nothing like that.

I slowly move across the room to where James is, to take my hand in between us, waiting for him to shake it. “Are we too old to do this?”, I carefully ask.

His answer was foreseeable: he grabs my hand and starts doing our ritual salute. Even though neither of us had done it in what felt like ages, at least for me, who can truly know how time flows in Heaven, we were still flawless as we used to be. On one of our good days, our 20 steps handshake would culminate in a brilliant climax, consisting in Wormtail throwing glitter and confetti at us. We always made him keep some of those into his pockets, for emergencies, like  bursting into the handshake in the middle of the dining hall or like pouring them over someone’s head after they had said something so stupid that one could simply not respond.

This, though, is a different situation, and the handshake we had created during detention in our third year ends as fast as it has begun. But it was more than a simple salute and said much more than any words or hugs could express. When hugging someone, you can hide your face, but here we were, standing in front of one another, moving our hands to a rhythm only we could hear.

My eyes fills with tears of regret and pain and sorrow. “I should’ve know” I tell him as tears start streaming down my cheeks, and I silently thank whoever made me a man for not having to wear make-up, ‘cause if I did and cried, well, those mascara stains and creasing in the foundation would never leave my pretty face. “The Rat is the international symbol of betrayal.”

“You just want me to say that the Dog is the international symbol of loyalty, don’t you? Guess what, I won’t!”

A small laugh escapes my mouth, “You just did you prat!”

“You’re the prat, here. Still owe me those ten pounds I lend you our fifth year”. He said this with a tone so serious, that could meant one thing only: he wasn’t serious at all, if anything he was trying not to laugh.

“First of all, you did technically said what I wanted you to say so I won..”  
“Bullshit”

“LANGUAGE JAMES! We are dead. We can’t use those words anymore.”

“Yes, we are dead, thank you so much for reminding me dear, I had almost forgot it!..” “Smartass” “..And, yes, we are allowed to use whichever FUCKING word we FUCKING choose.”

“GOOD TO KNOW WHY ARE YOU YELLING?”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU ARE YELLING!”

_“HE SAID CALMLY”_

“LISTEN YOU BLOODY WANKER GET BACK ON YOUR TRAIN OF THOUGHTS ‘CAUSE I’M STILL WAITING FOR THE SECOND MINDBLOWING POINT”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! Okay, where was I? Oh yes: second of all, are you really going to haunt my ass all the way through the Afterlife for those pounds?”

“Like hell I am!”

I nodded in agreement at his statement, “Completely understandable, good sir. And while you bug me for those ten bloody pounds I shall tell you every day for the rest of our eternal damnation, how many times me and sweet innocent sexy Moony did the dirty  stuff on your bed, both at Hogwarts on and over that pretty pink sheets your mother had brought...”, “Are you forgetting that those were a matching set with yours?”, “...And also at Godric’s Hollow”

“I already know and I knew back then about it all, jackass!”. He is laughing. James Potter is laughing and Oh Lord how I’ve missed this laugh. So pure and brings back so many memories. “Guess what? After me and Lils got together, we were no saints either. We still are not, mind you, but back then we used to do ‘the dirty stuff’, as you kindly called it, _everywhere:_ on your beds; on the potion lab; on certain broom-closets; the infirmary, the dining hall, ...”

“Great, got it! We used to be very young and have a great stamina, High five bro!”

As cliché as it may sounds, I burst into tears, again. I’m pretty secure with my masculinity to admit that I, Sirius Orion Black, a man, cry. Fuck you, Plato, I do what I want, and right now I want to cry. James immediately hugs me and tells me that, it’s alright, we’re finally back together. We are alright, it’s over. We don’t have to fight anymore. We are back together and nothing will keep us apart anymore.

I know, pretty gay, right? But I am gay, or queer still haven’t decided yet, and he is my best friend, so it’s our duty to act as gay as possible.

Now, that mentality doesn’t stop me from pulling abruptly out of the hug and whisper, “That’s pretty gay, mate”

A loud knock reverberated into my skull, immediately followed by laughter.

“It’s getting pretty chilly in here”

“Yeah, should’ve brought a raincoat or at least one of those ugly sweaters Rem uses to wear during winter.”

“They are not ugly!”

“You’re saying this just because you love the man who wears them. Speaking of which, I hope he doesn’t show his face around for a very long time.”

“Me too, I’m gonna miss his little tight ass, though. He has to built an army of little Blackies first.”

“Tonks’ never going to stop fighting just to nurse your ideal army, Padfoot.”

“A man can dream. Now, can we get the hell outta here?”

“Of course, the exit is on the right. So, who do you wanna see first? Lily or Regulus?”

We go talking like this for a while, recycling old jokes(Kids don’t forget to recycle, cause otherwise Mother Nature’s gonna kill us all ) and bringing the past back to life.

He was right. We were together, and _all was well._

**Author's Note:**

> well hello there!  
> thank you so much for reading this.  
> A few notes, in case you did not get some references:  
> 'whitened sepulcres' is from the bible, look it upon the internet;  
> Dante is Dante Alighieri, the most famous italian writer, if you don't know who he is, both I and Sirius urge you to check his work, something called 'Divina Commedia', which is basicalluy a love story and a bromance story set in the afterlife;  
> 'he said calmly' LOL;  
> 'Fuck you Plato', I'm referring to the philosopher, Platone in italian, who said that heroes shouldn't cry.
> 
> I had thought about it as a one-shot, but if you want more, feel free to ask! I really like the marauders and writing about them.  
> anyway,  
> don't forget to leave kudos and comments! they are like double chip chocolate cookies, and also motivate me when I'm feeling worthless  
> hope you really enjoyed it!  
> bye  
> jo.


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